


Sunsets in the West

by radiations



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, batflash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:50:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiations/pseuds/radiations
Summary: Wally gets higher than the sun in the sky and he sees the sun in Bruce Wayne and all of it burns because Bruce Wayne holds the sun in his soul. And the sun rises for Bruce Wayne, but it’s only ever meant to set for him, Wally West.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as a response to an ask but then it got away from me and doesn’t actually reflect the ask itself so I’ll write another one later but I really was feeling like a super stoned Wally West. This is kind of bittersweet. Actually super bittersweet. Set in totally au ness for the sake of plot. And tense is all over the place as usual.

Wally West is pretty sure it’s the sun that’s shining behind those teeth because there’s no other reason for Bruce Wayne’s smile to be that bright.

So he told the billionaire businessman exactly that, words tumbling from his lips before he had a moment to consider how they actually sounded.

“Excuse me?” The other man asked, looking up from the phone that he’d been smiling so brightly at, expression flickering to confusion and then amusement.

“Is it the sun that makes your smile so bright?” Wally asked, undeterred and still gazing openly at the other man, seated a bit away from him at the next table in the restaurant. It doesn’t give him pause to question whether or not the other was waiting for a date, or even the fact that he was simply waiting for his own date to return from the washroom.

He simply stared at the other man, diagonal from where he sat. Of course he knew who he was. Bruce Wayne. People probably spoke to him out of turn all the time.

He, on the other hand, not that well known. The nice kid next door.

So, it didn’t matter what he said, not really. But…he can’t help but think that maybe he’d be okay with staring at that face, that smile, for the rest of his…night here, at the very least.

Bruce Wayne blinked at him, eyebrows creasing together just slightly.

A beautiful woman in a glittering green dress approached them and Wally found himself staring at how the galaxy itself seemed to be interwoven into the fabric. He watched as she slipped, ever so gracefully, into the seat across from the man with the sun in his smile.

“I see galaxies in your dress,” he offered, in the same tone as he’d spoken earlier, and the woman looked at him, quizzically.

He felt the gaze of Bruce Wayne boring into the side of his head and Wally turned to meet that gaze, meet those eyes. Those eyes. There were galaxies there too, Wally thought. The cosmos, speaking to him. He parted his lips, intending to say exactly that, when his own friend returned from the washroom, her eyes sparkling.

“Ready to go, West?” She asked, and he loved her in that moment. He’s sure he loved everyone and everything.

“No,” he answered, honestly, smiling at her as she laughed and it was music to his ears. He wondered if, when Bruce Wayne laughed, it would be like fire, burning through his soul. He thought maybe it would be. And with that thought, he redirected his attention to the other man, still looking at him.

“Too bad,” Katherine said, still grinning and holding out her hand to him. He tore his gaze away from the sun, focusing on Katherine’s hand and taking it, allowing her to tug him up.

They left, and Wally West let his thoughts wander, wondering if he were to ever bump into the billionaire again.

It was raining outside.

* * *

“You’re the weirdest stoner I’ve ever met, West,” Katherine was telling him, from where she sat on his couch in his apartment. Wally leaned against the counter in his kitchen, admiring the way the light was reflecting off her dark brown hair. She was gorgeous. He could see sunlight entwined with the strands of her hair, and wondered if she knew, if she knew that she too, held the sun.

“Were you hitting on him?” She asked, and Wally tried to piece what she was saying together.

“Hmm?” He asked, loving the way his bones were heavy and weighed down and, the weight of the world, how he felt it, how he felt gravity and how it held him down so perfectly. He felt heavy and light and not like static, the way he'd felt so often lately. Like he was going to blink out of existence. Out of space, out of time. But no, like this, right here, he was grounded.

“Bruce Wayne, he had the weirdest look on his face when we left,” she said, twisting around to look at him, eyes just as bright as her smile. “Like he didn’t want you to go. What did you say to him?”

Ah, Bruce Wayne. Right. He'd felt grounded then too. Settled, in the way the other had gazed at him, pinning him down, presenting him...the present. He grinned a little, staring at his friend.

Wally couldn’t help but think that Katherine looked a lot like Diane and Shayera, put together. Maybe it was important that someone knew that. The way Bruce needed to know that behind his teeth were the sun itself.

“I told him that he must have swallowed the sun.” Wally responded, tasting the words as though he were saying them again, which he was.

Katherine stared at him, blinked, and then burst out laughing.

Music, to his ears. Everything was, when he was high. And he had all the time in the world, to laugh.

* * *

He’s high again when he meets Bruce Wayne for the second time. He didn’t make a habit of it, not really, because he was usually so busy, but when he did get down time, it was nice to actually not feel electricity buzzing and thoughts flying and everything moving so fast he couldn’t even breathe properly.

So, he got high the moments he did have to himself. Normally, he spent that time with himself, because it was the only way that he could actually be present in the moment.

And that was exactly what he was doing, lying on the shore of the beach, deeply aware of the sand between his fingers, waves lapping at the soles of his feet.

Present, in the moment, slow, _slow_ , slow waves and slow sounds of the water rushing, as slow as the blood in his veins, not rushing, and it was peace. That was peace, that was peace, this was peace.

He'd opened his eyes to gaze up at the stars and smiled lazily when he saw a man, all too familiar, standing over him. He must be dreaming.

“Did you bring the sun with you?” Wally asked, still grinning lazily and staring up at the other man, who was giving him a look that he couldn’t quite read in this lighting.

He stepped away from him, and Wally turned his head, following Bruce Wayne as he moved to sit down in the sand next to him.

“No,” he said, simply, not sounding amused. Wally gazed at the other form, feeling as though it was getting darker by the moment. Bruce Wayne stared at the water, and Wally feels weighed down, but not in a good way.

“Why are you here?” He asked, trying again.

“Sometimes I like to take time to myself,” he answered, briskly. Annoyed, almost.  
Wally felt a slight hiccup in the way the blood is coursing through his veins, and then wondered if that was possible.

“Hmm,” Wally responded, turning his head to look back up at the stars. “Me too. I like to take time…” he trailed off, and then realized that’s all that he had meant.

There’s a moment, and how important all these moments truly were, and Wally let himself get lost in that, closing his eyes to the way that the water was splashing against his ankles now, the tide rising, the tide rising.

“My name is Bruce Wayne,” the other man offered, gruffly.

“Wally West,” Wally sounded out, loving the way his last name sounded in the air, the west. Perhaps the earth meant for it to be this way. Was he the west, the West, meant to follow, to run after the sun as it set, to settle in the horizon?

Perhaps, then, the man next to him was the East, with the sun settling in his soul, to rise with the sun every morning?

Perhaps they were meant for one another.

“Do you have a habit of thinking aloud?” Bruce Wayne asked, tone bordering on amused, but still slightly tense.

Wally supposed that it was only right that the East, that the sun, heard the West as it existed.

“Only when there’s no rush,” Wally responded, as articulate as ever.

He lost time then, and they stayed like that for a bit longer.

It was still dark when the other man got to his feet and offered Wally a ride home, and Wally felt regret, regret that he didn’t get to witness the sunrise.

* * *

He’s the Flash and everything is happening and he’s right on time, dodging spears of ice and shouting into the communicator that he’d retrieved the bomb, that he was bringing it to Batman to defuse.

Three really quick minutes later, and everything is quick, even if it feels slow because time is in his hands, the danger has passed.

He stood there, staring at the dead bomb, relieved that he’d made it in time, despite knowing that he would have no matter what. Electricity still rushing in his veins, maybe even pumping with his blood, Wally stood next to Batman on the edge of the cliff.

They’d had to run far enough away and far enough high up so that if worst came to worst, they could at least toss the bomb over the edge and hope for the best.

“You alright, Flash?” Batman asked, and Wally felt the other man looking at him.

He flashed a grin, looking over.

“Of course I am,” he responded. He glanced back over the edge of the cliff, and then up at the sky, orange now, darkening slightly. There were streaks of fire, streaks of red, reflecting the setting sun, and he feels a touch of the west in him. It’s gone, and he can’t help but think about going back home to take a hit from his bong.

“Let’s go, Flash,” Batman said, turning around and Wally felt a little lost in the voice, in the moment, in time, before following after the other man.

* * *

They make a habit of it, Bruce Wayne and himself, meeting shortly before the sunrise at the beach at the exact same spot. Sometimes Wally is late and Bruce is there, and sometimes Bruce is late and Wally waited.

They always met up before the sun rises, and they always sit on the beach, Wally higher than the stars, and Bruce mildly amused, mildly concerned, and sometimes, mildly annoyed.

Wally never minded. Because he got to watch the sun rise. Two suns, in his presence.

The sky is turning that beautiful shade of purple, right before the soft pink and then orange, and Wally thought it was very important to tell the man next to him,

“You’re beautiful.”

Bruce didn’t respond, didn’t even move, and Wally didn’t care.

“You look like the sunrise, reflecting darkness in the most beautiful way.” Wally tore his gaze away from the sky, now staring at the other man whose own gaze was still fixed on the waves, on the sky resting on the waves. “You are bright and dark and I see the sun and the night in every breath you take.”

He wanted to touch him.

He felt as though touch, touching Bruce Wayne, would still him, slow him down, more than drugs ever could. He felt as though he was drinking in the man next to him by merely existing by him.

“You’re blitzed out of your mind,” Bruce said, flatly, and Wally supposed it was true.

“You carry the night and day in your words, you know that?” Wally pressed, earnestly, shifting his weight off one palm to raise his hand, curiously, wondering if the world would stop if he touched the other man, his face.

“Sure, kid,” Bruce said, dryly, eyes still fixed on the waves, and the sky is pink now, pink and highlighting orange, and Wally wished for once, that he was more present than he felt.

He felt too light, too slow, too out of it, to appreciate, in depth, the way the light from the sky rested on the man next to him. He told himself that next time, he would only inhale the other’s presence, nothing else, and exist by him, empty of everything else but him.

"But I feel like I am here, right now," he responded aloud, to nothing and no one in particular.

Bruce looked at him, questions in his gaze, and Wally wanted to kiss him, press his lips flush against the others.

"You usually don't?" The question was levelled, and he couldn't understand the other man's tone.

"I feel like I'm disappearing," Wally breathes, barely speaking and the words barely reaching his own ears.

Bruce stared at him and Wally wished, for once, that he wasn't high. His hand was still hovering, testing the air, wanting to touch Bruce Wayne's face.

He promised himself that he wouldn't be high next time, as his fingers curl back, drawing away from the other man.

And he turned back to watch as the sun started, slowly but surely, to rise.

* * *

“Flash,” Batman called out, stopping Wally, who had his finger on the button to the lift.

“Yeah, Bats?” He replied, pressing the button and turning around to look at the other, standing there, face as unreadable as ever.

“Are you okay?” He asked, tone steady, careful, and Wally, for the life of him, couldn’t piece together why. He hadn’t been hurt.  

“Yeah, think so.” Wally cocked his head, very aware of the way Batman was staring at him, scrutinizing him.

“You’d tell me, us, if you weren’t?” He stepped closer, expression blank but voice heavy with something that Wally couldn’t quite understand.

“Yeah, dude. What’s up?” Wally heard the elevator open behind him, turning to hold it while holding the gaze with Batman.

“Just…if it gets to be a bit much, let us know. If you need a vacation. If we’re running you thin,” Bats cracked a slight smile then, and Wally only frowned. “Literally.”

Wally can’t think of the last time he’d said anything about how tired he’d been feeling, how overwhelmed, how much he needed to shut it off.

“Nah, I’m fine, I swear,” Wally said, nodding a little to himself before smiling brightly and turning into the elevator.

He didn’t look back as the doors closed behind him.

* * *

He flushed the drugs down the toilet. He is tired. He’s tired of running from everything in every way he possibly could.

He is so tired of running. Even when he felt like he wasn’t, that he’d stopped, he was still running. Everything was so dark. Everything was so tiring. He was disappearing even with the drugs.

He was disappearing anyway.

His bones felt like they were darkening under his skin. After all, he supposed the sun always did set in the west.

* * *

“Flash! Are you okay?” Shayera was calling after him, desperately, and Wally couldn’t move fast enough, thoughts racing.

Batman was Bruce Wayne.

Shit.

Was there protocol to be a part of the league? Was he allowed to do drugs? Would he get fired? Why didn’t Bats say anything? Also, these were stupid questions but he refused to ask the most important one: _why had Bruce lied?_

And then he didn’t care, and he was speeding, rushing, running away from the tower, wishing he could fling himself as far away to the end of the universe as he could.

“Flash,” and a hand stops the elevator doors from shutting, and Wally’s heart speeds up at the sound of the other’s voice. Batman stood there, suit still on, cowl still on, and it didn’t matter because Wally knew. Wally knew.

“Bruce Wayne,” he heard himself gasp, eyes wide, heart pounding, thoughts racing, and fingers trembling.

“It’s okay,” Bruce started to say, and how didn’t Wally piece it together? It was the same voice. The same, layered voice, with emotions, with darkness, with light, those same eyes, shining in darkness and shining in brightness, it was the same, same-

“It’s not. You lied to me.” Wally said, stepping back, letting his back hit the wall, realizing that he was forgetting to breathe, or breathing too quickly.

“I didn’t lie.”

“We were friends.” And Wally saw the sun in him, but now, all he saw was darkness anywhere.

“We still are,” Bruce said, patiently, carefully, slowly, like he was talking to a child.

“Get away from me,” Wally spat, angry, frustrated, sad, and of course the sun always sets, always sets.

Batman does, and Wally can’t see the sun anywhere, as the door closes in front of him.

* * *

He’s sober, and the night is cold. The sand is boring, almost, underneath his hands, and he picks some of it up, letting it filter through his fingers and fall back down.

The water is cold, the sky is dark, and Wally wondered when it started losing meaning. He supposed that’s why he’d started, in the first place. It had been moving so quickly, too quickly, for him to attach any sort of meaning to any of it.

He waited, and when the sun started to rise, the sky lightening all around him, he is alone.

He realized that he would probably never come back, as he got to his feet and dusted himself off.

The sun was bright, burning. Wally should have simply stayed in the shade.

The sun was never meant to rise for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to request whatever on tumblr! My username is: batflashed.


End file.
